


like a light came on

by mynameisbirdie



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, post-credits scene who? i don't know her, post-ffh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-29 18:13:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20800796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mynameisbirdie/pseuds/mynameisbirdie
Summary: Peter feels a wave of affection for MJ spread from his chest throughout the rest of his body, his toes tingling, ears warming up. He loves that she took the time to seek May out, loves that she wants to volunteer at the shelter, loves her for her passion for social justice and -Wait, what?or;five times Peter thought he might be in love with MJ, and the one time he knew for sure.





	like a light came on

**Author's Note:**

> special thanks to [TheHeroicHydrangea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHeroicHydrangea/pseuds/TheHeroicHydrangea) for betaing this one for me!
> 
> this fic takes place post-ffh, but ignores the first post-credits scene because who wants to deal with that?? not me. i'm riding that denial train until 2021, babes.
> 
> title is from _feels like this_ by maisie peters.
> 
> hope you enjoy!

i.

There are a lot of ways that Peter Parker has heard people describe falling in love.

“Love at first sight,” is perhaps the most cliche. That’s what he would have called his infatuation with Liz Allen at one point, though time has made him wiser (but not necessarily older, because that's what happens when you get snapped out of existence by a giant purple Titan who decides that it's his destiny to implement population control across the entirety of the universe).

He's heard Ned describe how he fell in love with Betty over an in-flight fruit cobbler, has been told by May how his parents loved each other (and him) so fully, and has witnessed how love lost can change a person, can dim the light in their eyes and harden their heart.

The concept of "falling" in love is probably the most familiar and common; it's accidental, a trip over untied shoelaces that lands you face-first into the pavement - jolting, somewhat violent, leaving you with scraped palms, wondering how you could have possibly ended up here when you were just taking a walk on a nice day. 

Peter Parker does not "fall" in love.

Peter Parker stutters and skips into love like a broken record, the scritch-scratch of needle on vinyl ringing _ maybe's _ and _ I think I might _ and _ how do I know's _? 

The first time he thinks he might be in love is only one month into his and MJ’s officially established relationship, which Peter thinks is going pretty great so far. Things are still a little stilted here and there - awkward, because they’re teeangers who’ve never navigated an actual relationship before - but after the Europe trip they’ve spent most of their summer together. Ned is usually there too, and the three of them have fallen into a routine of sorts. 

Quite simply, things are good.

MJ spends a lot of time at Peter’s apartment. (He has yet to go to hers, or meet any of her family, but he doesn’t press her on it; he remembers the way she’d hung her head after refusing a ride home from him and May after the D.C. trip, and while it makes his heart hurt a little to think about, he suspects - _ hopes _ \- that she’ll tell him about it when she’s ready.) Up until now, he’s always been with her at the apartment, leaving little time for any awkward (on MJ's part) or embarrassing (on Peter's part) interactions with May, but his notorious Parker Luck had to catch up with him sometime.

“You know, you would think,” he says as he pulls his shirt over his head, “that criminals would have the decency to _ wait _ until their local superhero isn’t on a date with his girlfriend to escape from prison.”

MJ’s back is turned to him, not unlike how she had in the hotel room in Prague. She’s looking at her phone when she replies, “I’m actually surprised we made it this long.” She's quiet for a moment as she seemingly scrolls through the news report, and then says, “The alert says there are nine of them - they’ve cleared a ten-block radius and civilians have been evacuated from the area. Most of them have lesser violent charges - arson, armed robbery - but one of them has been convicted of homicide.”

Peter presses the spider emblem on his chest, his suit tightening as she turns around at the sound. “Got it. Hey, don’t tell Ned I said this, but you’d make a pretty good ‘guy in the chair,’” he says with his most charming smile.

She doesn't even glance up from her phone. “I’m already texting him.”

“MJ, no!” 

“Too late,” she says, holding up her phone to show him their group chat. He pouts, opens his mouth to respond, but the distant sirens outside catch his attention. 

“Okay, I gotta go. You sure you’ll be okay on your own for a while?”

MJ gives him a curt nod, pocketing her phone as she gives him a tight smile. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I’ll probably just stay here, get some homework done or read or something.”

He tilts his head at her, his brow furrowed. "You don't have to hole up in my room, though. May won't bite, I promise," he adds with a little laugh for good measure as he tugs his mask over his head.

She doesn't quite meet his eyes when she says, "We'll see. Stay safe."

"I'll do my best." And then he's off with a _ thwip _ and a swing.

For a group of convicts who managed to organize an escape during a facility transfer, they were very bad at staying hidden. And okay, to be fair, it's hard to do that when you're in a bright orange jumpsuit and the local vigilante superhero possesses an all-knowing satellite AI made by arguably one of the most intelligent people to ever walk the earth, but still. Peter can't help but be a little disappointed with their lack of finesse.

The good news is, he manages to snag four of them for the local precinct, while they're able to bag the other five, all before dinner with May and MJ.

When he gets back to his room, he jumps through the window and immediately starts rattling off the story of the escape and capture to MJ, only to realize that she's not anywhere to be found. A quick survey of the room shows him that her backpack and phone are both still here, and he knows she wouldn’t have left before he got back. Which leaves one of two possible options: 1) MJ is in the bathroom and will return to his room shortly; or 2) MJ is out in the living room and was roped into some sort of conversation with May. 

Just then, there's a sudden echo of laughter - May's - coming from the other side of the door.

Huh.

Peter rushes to get his suit off, gets dressed, and makes his way out to the living room, trying to remain as collected as he possibly can. When he turns the corner, MJ is pouring over a stack of flyers May had brought home from the shelter, while May continues making dinner for the three of them. He hears MJ's voice as he approaches, her usual sarcastic lilt exchanged for a more direct admiration.

"- I mean, resources were scarce enough before the Snap. This is really cool, Mrs. Parker."

"Michelle, I told you to call me May."

He hears her hesitation, just for a moment, and then - "MJ."

"What's that?" May sounds distracted, but he knows better. He refers to MJ exclusively by her nickname now - there's no way May doesn't know that this is a big deal.

"My friends call me MJ."

There's quiet for a moment, but when May speaks up again Peter can hear the smile in her voice. "Well, thank you, MJ. I'm honored."

He hears MJ make a shy sound of acknowledgement, and takes that as his cue to make his entrance into the kitchen.

"Hey, I'm back, sorry about that," he says, putting a hand on the back of MJ's chair. When she turns around to look at him, he gives her an encouraging smile. "Did I miss anything interesting while I was gone?"

"Oh, no not much, us girls were just getting to know each other a little better," May says as she mixes a bowl of greens for a salad. "Tell us about the escaped convicts - we saw on the news that they managed to catch all of them."

Peter doesn't have to be asked twice; he launches into his story with excitement in his eyes, hands gesturing every which way. Telling the whole thing takes up their time at the dinner table, too, and at one point he thinks he sees May catch MJ's eyes, which causes her to smirk. While the conspiratory glances may have once made him nervous, he finds that he feels exactly the opposite at seeing them so easily interact - it's a comfort he can't really describe to see two of his favorite people getting along so well.

Peter and MJ clean up after dinner, and then retreat back to his room to finish practicing for decathlon. When MJ leaves later in the evening, he walks her to the front door. 

"Text me when you get home, okay?" He gives her hand a squeeze.

"Will do," she says with an awkward salute. "Thanks again for dinner, May," she calls out behind Peter.

May smiles knowingly at MJ from her spot on the couch, and says "Of course, MJ. You're welcome here anytime."

MJ's returning smile is tight, but genuine as she says one last goodbye to Peter and sneaks a glance at May before kissing him quickly. He waves as she heads down the hallway to the stairs, a dopey grin plastered on his face. 

Once she's out of sight, Peter shuts the door and leans back against it for a moment, his arms crossed as he lets out a content sigh.

"So I take it things are going well between you two, huh?" May asks, her eyebrows raised in a knowing look. 

Her question breaks him out of his dazed thoughts. “Um, yeah,” he rubs the back of his neck, suddenly finding that his shoes are the most interesting thing in the room. “I think so. I mean, it’s only been about a month, but…” He trails off as he takes a seat next to May on the couch. 

She looks at him expectantly. “But…?”

Peter lets out a breath, fiddles with his hands in front of him. “I’m just really crazy about her.” An embarrassed laugh, and then, “It seems like so little time to feel this...much. And I know she likes me, I can tell, and she’s literally said it to me before. I just don’t know…” He shakes his head, another nervous laugh escaping from his lips. “She’s hard to read, sometimes.”

“Well,” May starts, scooting over to wrap an arm around his shoulders. “I can’t say I know MJ all that well, but I have been watching you both for the past month. She seems pretty crazy about you, too.”

He looks up at May, all wide eyes and hope and a tinge of relief. “Really?”

“Of course, honey. I’ve seen the way she looks at you.” She squeezes his shoulder. “And not that you need my approval or anything, but you’ve got it with her.”

This time his laugh is genuine, happy. “Thanks, May. You guys seemed to be getting along well while I was gone.”

May stands up and heads to the kitchen, her voice trailing behind her. “Yeah, she asked me about the shelter and what she could do to help! I think she’s going to volunteer with us.”

Peter feels a wave of affection for MJ spread from his chest throughout the rest of his body, his toes tingling, ears warming up. The fact that she’d made the effort to spend some time with May without him there means more to him than he thinks she’d ever realize. And he knows her, knows that she can get uncomfortable around other people, especially when she hasn’t had the proper time to observe and get a read on them. He loves that she took the time to seek May out, loves that she wants to volunteer at the shelter, loves her for her passion for social justice and - 

_ Wait, what? _

Peter sucks in a breath and leaps from the couch as if it had burned him. _ Loves _ ? It’s the first time it’s even crossed his mind since they started dating. At seventeen, everything has a tendency to feel like the world is ending (though, to his credit, there has been more than one occasion where the world _ was _ actually ending). When he’d first started crushing on MJ, it had felt _ big _ \- bigger than he’d ever felt with anyone, even Liz - but he chalked it up to actually knowing her and being her friend, rather than just admiring from afar. He hadn’t once thought about love, or what that could mean. Love meant something more than just _ boyfriend-girlfriend _, love meant more than holding hands in the hallways or three kisses on Tower Bridge.

Love meant there was someone else in his life who could get hurt. 

His sudden movement must catch May’s attention, because she looks up from the electric kettle and tilts her head with concern. “What’s wrong? Is it your - what are you calling it now?” She asks with a snap of her fingers. “‘Spider...Sensation?’”

“‘Spidey Sense,’ and no, nothing...nothing like that. Um…” he hesitates, unsure if he even wants to broach the subject. But it’s May, and other than the first few months of his superhero side-gig, he’s never been one to keep things from her. “May, um. How - how do you know when you’re in love?” He watches as her eyebrows raise higher, eyes widening just so, and rushes to clarify. “Not that I am! Or anything. I mean, it’s way too early to be thinking about that sort of thing. I’m just, uh. Curious. Like, hypothetically, how would I know?”

Slowly, May’s face breaks out into a serene smile, and she ducks her head in a soft laugh. Her eyes are bright when she looks up at him. “Oh, honey. I think it’s different for everyone. How I knew may not be the same way you know.”

His brow furrows as he walks closer to the kitchen, standing just across from her at the counter. “Okay, so how did you know?” he asks, his voice unsure.

“With Ben?”

Peter nods, unable to get any words out. Watching Ben and May growing up, it had always been so apparent that they loved each other, and he’d never once doubted how much they loved him. It’s not often that they talk about Ben so openly, but he finds that he wants to know the answer. 

May looks up, something sparkling in her eyes. “Well, I think I officially knew our junior year in college. He was supposed to take a guys’ trip to Connecticut to go skiing - strictly no girlfriends allowed,” she accentuates with a mockingly serious face, causing Peter to let out a laugh. “A few days before he was supposed to leave, I got really sick - flu season was awful that year - and I didn’t even have to ask for him to stay. In fact, I kept telling him to go, but he insisted. He took care of me, slept on my couch the entire week,” she smiles at the memory. “We had only been dating for a few months, but I was already pretty gone for him - that week sealed it for me.” 

“Sounds like Ben,” he says, swallowing the lump that’s formed in his throat. She must hear the waver in his voice, because her eyes soften, a sad smile on her face as she circles the counter to pull him into a hug. Peter lets her, sighs into her shoulder. “I really miss him.”

“So do I.” 

Peter can’t see her face, but he hears her watery voice, her poorly-disguised sniffle. He closes his eyes for a moment and just allows himself to be held by his aunt, allows himself to be a kid who misses his uncle, rather than a superhero with the weight of an entire city’s well-being on his shoulders.

She gives him one last squeeze, and pulls away, her hands resting on his shoulders. “Don’t worry too much about it, okay? When you know, you’ll know. You won’t have to question it, won’t have any doubts, or maybes - you’ll just know.”

“Thanks, May,” he says with a smile. She beams.

“Anytime.”

He lets her go back to fixing her tea, grabbing his phone from the coffee table as he heads back to his room. When he sits down at his desk, he sees that he has an unread message from MJ.

_ I’m home. _

It’s ridiculous how those two words manage to make him break out into a grin, but he figures he’ll let himself have this one tonight. He doesn’t think he’s in love - not yet - but he is happy. 

That feels like enough for now.

ii.

Three months into their relationship, Peter thinks, yet again, that he could be in love with MJ.

She's been at his place for the past few hours, but she’s currently packing her bag to head home. He doesn't want her to leave - he never really does, thinks he could spend all day watching her sketch, or sip on a mug of tea, or read - but her mother had called a few minutes ago to tell her she was on her way. Her unlocked phone was haphazardly tossed onto his bed after the call, and sits directly in front of him on his bed. His eyes flicker down to the screen, the movement almost involuntary, but what he sees makes his heart skip a beat.

Because there, in all its goofiness and glory, is a picture of him behind her meticulously organized apps. He recognizes the picture instantly; she had taken it while they were waiting at the airport for their flight home to London. He's wearing his dorky telekinesis pun shirt with a blue hoodie on top (the one that has since _ mysteriously _ gone missing from his closet), phone in hand, and is absolutely cheesing for the camera, eyes closed and crinkled at the edges. 

MJ had never struck him as the type to make her phone background a picture of her boyfriend, but his own face grinning back up at him from the screen begs to differ. He can't help the equally ridiculous-looking grin that spreads across his face as he calls out, "Heeeyy," drawing out the word.

She doesn't look back up at him, just continues shoving books into her backpack, and gives him a quick "hm?" in return.

He grabs her phone and turns it toward her. "When did you set this as your background?"

MJ's head snaps up, and before he knows it she's snatched the phone back, holding it with both of her hands, screen down toward her chest. She seems to steel herself as she raises an eyebrow at him and says, "Way to be nosy, Parker."

Peter sputters for a defense. "You're the one who left it unlocked!"

Her face remains nonchalant when she replies, "Still nosy." She gives a half-hearted shrug and turns back to packing her bag. "Besides, it's not that big of a deal. It’s not like it’s a huge secret that I like your face."

Peter feels the tips of his ears grow hot at her comment. It brings a smile to his face that he doesn’t bother holding back. That’s become a rather common occurrence around her lately, _ smiling _, and it doesn’t seem to be stopping anytime soon. He decides he’s okay with it, especially when there’s a picture of him with an even sillier grin on his face on her home screen.

As she finishes packing her bag from the floor, she looks up at him with a small smile on her face. His gaze softens as they sit in silence for just a moment, neither of them looking away from the other. 

It’s moments like this when Peter feels like this _ thing _ between them is bigger than he really knows. When he thinks maybe this could be something more than just a high school romance. He doesn't dwell on these thoughts often because he's young - they've got their whole lives ahead of them - and it seems naive and foolish to think that he could have possibly found "the one" at sixteen years old.

_ And yet. _

She breaks his train of thought when she gets up from the floor and moves to sit next to him on his bed, her hip brushing against his as she settles in. He feels the familiar flutter of butterflies in his stomach as he turns to look at her and says, “Well, you know what I have to do now, right?” She raises her eyebrows in response, so he pulls out his phone from his back pocket and holds it up. “Now I have to find an equally adorable picture of you to set as my phone background.” 

“I never said that picture of you was adorable,” she deadpans.

“Didn’t you, though?” he says with tilt of his head and a cheeky grin. Her eyes squint in a glare, but the corner of her lip upticks in a small smirk, and she gives him a playful shove. He lets out a laugh as he pulls up the pictures on his phone. 

His gallery, surprisingly enough, doesn’t have a ton of pictures of _ just _ her - there are pictures of all of their little group of friends, from post-Blip, the Europe trip, their summer so far - but there’s one picture he has in mind that he scrolls down to. 

It’s a photo from Venice. Shortly after the first elemental attack, they had taken a water taxi across the Grand Canal to make up for the rather disastrous gondola ride from earlier in the day. Ned had said something that had prompted a laugh out of MJ (he was always able to get her to laugh at his dumb jokes; usually she just laughed _ at _ Peter), her eyes practically closed from how wide she was smiling. Her hair was down, pulled to one side, loose curls framing her face as she leaned against the taxi door. It’s one of his favorites of her - she had looked so unabashedly happy that he hadn’t been able to stop himself from surreptitiously snapping a picture.

He pulls up the picture and turns his phone towards MJ, even though she’s been staring over his shoulder this entire time. “This one. It’s perfect.”

MJ doesn’t say anything, just looks at the photo for a moment and then back up to him. The corner of her lips tug at a smile, and he swears he sees a faint blush on her cheeks. She clears her throat and looks down at her lap as she tucks her hair behind her ear. Her voice carries an air of confidence when she says, "if you say so."

He looks back down at the picture, and can't help himself when he says, completely unprompted, "you just looked so happy." He catches MJ's eyes for a moment and holds his gaze. "I like seeing you happy."

She tears her eyes away from his, and for a second he thinks he might have gone too far, said too much, but then she looks down at their hands resting next to each other between them, and slowly, deliberately, intertwines her fingers with his. Her voice is barely above a whisper when she replies, "I am happy."

Peter swears that his heart stops beating for a moment. He wills himself to take a deep breath, the weight of his - feelings? adoration? _ love _ ? - for her settling in his chest. And there it is again. _ Is this really what love feels like? _ He doesn't think he can be sure, but whatever this is - whatever these feelings are for her - it's big.

She's looking at him expectantly, so he does the only thing he can manage to make himself do - he leans forward and kisses her. She brings her free hand up to his cheek almost immediately, cradling his face as his lips move with hers. Her thumb brushes back and forth against his cheek, and he drops his phone on the bed to place his arm at her waist. He's close to pulling her right into his lap when her phone rings next to him. She pulls away first, giving him an apologetic look when she leans over him to grab her phone and answer the call.

"Hey, Mom… yeah, I'm ready. I'll be right down. Okay, bye." She hangs up her phone and turns to him. "I gotta go."

Despite knowing this already, he sighs. "Yeah, I know. See you tomorrow."

It's not a question, so she doesn't say anything, just nods, her soft smile meeting his in a quick peck as she says goodbye. She climbs off his bed and grabs her things, giving him a small wave as she heads out. He hears her say goodbye to May, and waits a few moments after he's heard the front door shut behind her to go to his window and make sure she gets in her mom's car safely. 

He watches as they drive off down the road, the car backlit by the setting sun. It'll be time for him to go patrolling soon, so he waits until he can no longer see the car before he allows himself a moment to look at his new phone background. It makes him smile, wide and involuntary (yes, _ again _). 

The pure joy that radiates from the image takes his breath away, and for a moment, he lets himself think about when that four-letter word had crossed his mind, now for the second time in the past couple of months. Based off his previous conversation with May, he lets himself believe that it's just a fluke - he'd hesitated, wasn't sure the feeling was quite right. 

But now, as he looks at the picture of his girlfriend, her smile uncaring of any perceived notions about who she is, he lets himself think about how easy it would be to fall in love with her.

It doesn't scare him as much as it did before.

iii.

Peter wakes up to the sound of the X-Files theme ringing from his phone. He knows immediately who it is, which is why he picks up before the high notes of the catchy melody even begin to play.

The time - 4:03 AM, he sees just before he picks up the call - does absolutely nothing to quell his worry.

“MJ? What’s going on, is everything okay?”

“Hey,” she says in lieu of responding to either of his questions. Her voice is shy, a little breathless over the phone, but the sound alone calms his rapidly beating heart. “Um, sorry. I woke you, didn’t I?”

“Well, yeah, but it’s fine,” he replies, keeping his voice low. There’s silence on the other end of the line for a moment, before Peter tries again. “Are you alright?”

MJ lets out a huff of air. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she says, her voice nonchalant. But Peter knows her better than that, knows her tells for when she’s trying to pass off as aloof or indifferent. 

“Em,” he says softly, knowingly. It’s not a nickname he uses often, but in their brief time as a couple he’s taken to calling her that in the quiet moments, the ones that only exist between them. 

This feels like one of those moments. 

“I - ” she hesitates, so he opts for staying quiet, patient as he waits for her to get it out - or not. He of all people knows that sometimes it’s easier not to talk about things. Sometimes it’s enough to just hear a comforting voice.

He has a feeling that he knows what this call is - he’s called her in the middle of the night a few times for the exact same reason - which is why he waits quietly for her to say something.

“Just a weird dream, that’s all.”

He closes his eyes tight and sighs, his brow furrowed as he asks, “Blip dream?”

“...Yeah.” 

There are a lot of things he hates about the Blip - about what it did to their Earth, what it did to the Avengers, and what they had to sacrifice - but right now, more than anything, he hates that it’s given his girlfriend nightmares.

“I’m sorry, MJ,” he says, because he doesn’t know what else to say. 

He can almost hear her shrug on the other end of the line. “Not your fault.”

He wants to say that it's not true - it was, on some level, at least _ partly _ his fault - and Beck's words ring through his head for a moment. _ Maybe if you were good enough - _but no. He knows that saying anything like that, anything that even gives the slightest implication that he blames himself, would only upset her further. And he also knows, on a deeper level, that she would be right to be upset with him. So, instead he says, “I know, but -“ he swallows thickly, feeling water prick behind his eyes in his tired state. “I just hate this sometimes. It’s hard not to be grateful, but - ”

“It sucks,” she finishes for him. 

“Yeah,” he says, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

“Yeah.”

It’s quiet again for a few minutes. The only sounds that pass between them are those of the city streets - the rustling of the L train as it rushes by just outside his window, cars passing in the early morning, a distant siren that Peter decides he’ll leave to the local precinct to handle. He closes his eyes and listens to MJ’s breathing through the phone, content to just be present for her as she’s done for him countless times. 

It occurs to him that while he’s jolted awake in the middle of the night and fumbled for his phone in the dark as he sought out the comfort of her voice, she’s never called him like this before. It feels significant somehow. The words she’d said on Tower Bridge all those months ago echo in the back of his mind - _ I don’t have much luck when it comes to getting close to people _ \- which is why he blurts out, “You called me.”

“What?” she asks, clearly caught by surprise.

“Uh, sorry, I just -” he runs a hand through his hair and tries again. “You called me. In the middle of the night.”

“Yeah,” she says slowly. She only sounds a little unsure when she asks, “that’s okay, right?” 

“Of course - of course it is! MJ, it’s _ so _ okay. More than okay.” He brings the hand that was running through his hair down to his face, covering his mouth slightly as he says, “I mean, you’ve always answered my calls at ungodly hours in the morning.”

She lets out a little huff of air that sounds almost like a laugh. “Right, yeah. That’s what I figured.” He can tell that she’s trying to play this off as though it isn’t a big deal, but he knows better. The fact that she had thought to call _ him _, had felt comfortable enough to - it does something to his chest that he can’t quite put into words.

“I, um. I’m actually really glad you called me.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. You know, I - I just want you to feel like you can come to me with this kind of thing. I’m your boyfriend,” and even after months of being together his heart still does a little flip at the word, “I want to be there for you as much as you’re there for me.” He pauses, letting the words sink in for a moment before he adds, “You know that I'm here for you, MJ, right? I just need to make sure you know that.”

He can’t be sure, but he thinks he hears MJ sniff a little before she says, “I know you are, Peter. I don’t think I would have called anyone else.” Her voice is quiet, and it sounds a little watery, but he doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he smiles to himself, and stays silent, basking in the mere idea that he’s able to make her feel as safe and happy as she makes him feel. He gets that feeling again - the one telling him that this could be love, _ real _ love - but he doesn’t linger on it too long before he answers her.

“Good. That’s - that’s great.” 

There a moment of silence before she asks, “Hey, Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad I have you to call.”

His heart swells, and he can’t help the grin that spreads across his face as he brings a hand up to his mouth to hide the smile she can’t even see. “I’m glad I have you to call, too.”

His voice completely betrays him, and she lets out a soft laugh. “I’m gonna try to get some more sleep.”

“Oh, yeah, okay,” he says, trying to mask the disappointment in his voice. 

But she knows him, and he knows her, so he can practically hear her eye roll when she says “I’m going to see you in a few hours at school, dweeb.”

“I know, I know. I’ll see you then.”

“Yeah, see you soon.” He lets her hang up first, waits for the click and the dial tone before he plugs his phone back in and sets it on his nightstand. 

With a content sigh, he turns over to get a bit more rest before he has to wake up for school in a few hours, the thoughts of maybe-love and uncertainty lulling him to sleep. 

iv.

Their first real fight is five months after Tower Bridge. 

It starts with a bodega robbery. He’s out patrolling when he gets notified of an incoming call from MJ, and since it’s a slower night he answers it immediately with an enthusiastic, “hey!” Except, there’s no reply back, just some shuffling on the other end of the line. Peter is about to hang up, assuming that she’d butt-dialed him, when he hears a muffled, angry voice shouting, “ - money in - register, _ now _!”

His heart rate spikes, and to make matters worse that’s when MJ ends the call, before he can even ask her where she is. Generally, he has a rule that he doesn’t use EDITH on his family or friends, unless he thinks they’re in imminent danger; he figures this qualifies as one of those times, and that MJ had probably thought of that when she called him. 

“EDITH, find MJ, now.”

Moments later, EDITH rattles off an address of a bodega not too far from MJ’s favorite library, so he takes off and makes it there in what he’s sure is record timing. The robbery is still in progress, and from the rooftop of the building across he can see two guys holding up the register. There are a few other patrons in the small shop, but he doesn’t spot MJ, so he swings right in.

The next few minutes are a blur; he webs the two robbers’ guns away from them, and easily dodges their ill attempts at punches. A couple of _ thwips _ here, a snarky comment there, and both of them are subdued (one k-o’ed - by accident, technically - the other webbed up on the door of the freezer section), and Peter thinks briefly that his job is done, until he feels a prickle go up the back of his neck, his senses suddenly on high alert. He whips around at the sound of struggling behind him, only to come face to face with his girlfriend in the locked grip of another man in a cheap ski mask. 

MJ, to her credit, looks equal parts scared and annoyed, and flits her eyes between him and the guy whose arm is around her neck. Peter manages to find his voice, despite the fact that all he can seem to hear is his own heart beating.

“Whoa, buddy!” he starts, his voice involuntarily jumping a couple of octaves. “No need for anymore threatening of civilians, okay? You guys clearly organized this whole operation very well - if you’re going to blame someone for it going wrong, come at - ” but he doesn’t get to finish his sentence. Without any warning, MJ slams her foot onto her captor’s, and swiftly brings her elbow into his gut. There’s a cry of pain as he goes to clutch at his stomach, and she ducks out of his grasp in time for Peter to web him to the ground (perhaps with a bit more webbing than is strictly necessary). 

“Em-ma’am, are you alright?” Peter says as he rushes to her side, hands on her shoulders as he scans for any injuries. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she says, but he hears the shake in her voice. “Thanks.”

Peter takes a moment to assess the rest of the bodega, senses that all threats are taken care of and all of the rest of the people in the shop are unharmed, and turns to MJ and says in a low voice, “C’mon, we’re getting you out of here.”

He grabs her hand and they make their way out the front, the sound of sirens getting closer. Even though he knows she hates it, she doesn’t protest as she wraps her legs around his waist and locks her arms around his shoulders, and then they’re off.

His mind is racing as they’re swinging through the city, and he finds himself moving in the direction of her apartment building on autopilot. When he lands on top of the roof just a few minutes after their take off, he can feel his adrenaline spiking. MJ, for her part, has been oddly silent on the swing over, and he lets her down without a word. 

“You sure you’re okay?” he asks, his voice a little shaky.

She takes a couple of steps back and rubs her hands on her jeans. “Yeah, I’m alright,” she says, letting out a sigh. “All things considered, I think that went as well as it could have.”

Peter lets out a disbelieving laugh and pulls his mask off in one swift movement, a hint of frustration to his voice as he asks, “You think?”

“Pretty best case scenario, don’t you think? No civilian injuries, bad guys caught, Spidey saves the city once again,” she says with a twirl of her finger.

Peter doesn’t laugh, just stares at her for a moment, his jaw clenched. He lets out a slow breath, and dares to ask, “MJ, what were you thinking?”

She blanches. “Excuse me?”

“I’m just trying to understand - what made you think you could take that guy on by yourself?"

Her eyes harden. “You sure you didn’t get knocked in the head during that fight? Because you seem to forget that I did take that guy on - _ by myself _.”

“Yeah, but you shouldn’t have!" His voice rises without meaning to. "It was reckless, and stupid, and I just - I can’t believe you put yourself in that situation.”

“Put _ myself _ in that situation? Peter, last time I checked, I wasn’t the one robbing the bodega at gunpoint,” she snarks back. He avoids her gaze, instead focusing on ringing his mask between his hands just to have somewhere to release his pent-up energy. It’s quiet for a moment, but her tone is incredulous when she asks, “Are you _ mad _ at me?” 

He inhales quickly, trying to make sense of his own emotions, but speaks before he lands on anything concrete. “No, I’m not - _ mad _ , just - that could have been _ really _bad, MJ, and you just - ”

“I _ just_, what? Defended myself? I’ve taken self-defense classes, Peter, I can handle some idiot with an arm around my neck.”

“_ I _ could have handled it. I _ was _handling it!” 

“What do you want me to say? I saw an opportunity to get us both out of that situation and I took it. I don’t see what the problem is here. We're both fine, everyone was _ fine _." she says, an edge to her voice he hasn't ever heard directed toward him before.

He switches tactics to try to get her to understand. “What if he’d had a gun? What if you’d gotten hurt, or _ worse _ , what if -” he asks, the desperation in his voice becoming more apparent as he continues. He shouldn’t distract himself with hypotheticals - she's right, they’re both safe, that’s what matters - but his mouth keeps running off before his brain has time to catch up. He knows he’s being paranoid, knows he’s just _ scared _ because his girlfriend was in danger and he practically _ froze _ when it really mattered, but the blood is still pounding in his ears, and his fists are clenched to keep them from shaking because the adrenaline is starting to wear off, and what if he’d _ lost _ her, oh _ god _ \- 

“Peter,” MJ says, her voice firm as she comes to stand right in front of him. Tentatively, she places a hand on his where they hold the mask. “C'mon, I'm right here. I'm okay.”

He unfolds his hands under her own, and rubs the back of her knuckles with his thumb, but doesn’t look up at her. He was being irrational because he was scared, and he’d been the one who started this dumb fight, and for what? When he finally brings himself to look up at her, one eyebrow is quirked upwards, her head tilted down slightly as she studies him.

“Are we good?”

He doesn’t want to fight with her, and his panic is starting to subside, so he says “yeah, we’re good.” She brings him into a hug, and he thinks, _ that was easier than I thought it would be. _

He should have known better.

Things are...off for the next couple of days. They're not outwardly any different to the untrained eye - they still sit next to each other at lunch, kiss each other on the cheeks when they go separate ways for classes, and hold hands in the hallways. But MJ doesn't wrap her foot around his under the lunch table, and her smile is tight when he pulls away from kissing her cheek as he drops her off for Anatomy class.

It all blows up the next day, beginning with one sarcastic comment that quickly escalates into a full-blown argument.

They don’t yell at each other, but the words exchanged have an undercurrent of intensity they haven’t breached with each other before. MJ is honest, brutally so, and Peter lets his emotions get the better of him at every turn. He hates every second of it, but each time he tries to turn it around, to find some middle ground, he thinks of seeing her locked in the grip of that robber and feels panic flare in his chest again. In the moment, it feels like justification enough for how much he knows he’s overreacting. 

It ends with MJ deciding to go home much earlier than she’d planned, and even though he tries to offer to take her, she insists on getting back on her own. As soon as she’s out the door, Peter feels an overwhelming sense of dread enclose around him, wishing he could have a redo of the last half-hour. He goes to his room and tries (read: fails) to focus on his homework for the rest of the night; the only blip of hope is when she texts him to tell him she got home safely (she always remembers). 

Immediately, he feels the pressing weight of gloom that had set in during the time she'd been gone lift slightly, and he starts to type out a long apology before he stops himself. It would be better to have the conversation in person, so instead he sends a sole _ thanks for letting me know _ back (no emojis, because he doesn't want to seem pushy). He decides he'll talk to her when he sees her at school tomorrow, apologize, and clear the air.

Only, the next day, MJ is mysteriously absent from all of their usual meet-up spots; she doesn't come to lunch, and they don't have AcaDec practice, so his likelihood of seeing her is low. He doesn’t text her, opting to give her space instead, but he still finds himself checking his phone during classes more than usual, enough that he gets called out by Mr. Harrington in his AP Physics class.

When 2:45 rolls around, he decides he’s waited long enough, and texts her to ask if he can walk her home. He waits a couple of minutes, the gray ellipses starting and stopping as she seemingly types out a response. Eventually, she settles on ‘_ Thanks, but I’m not going home. Heading to the library to work on the Lit essay. Sorry.’ _ His shoulders slump. So, she still needs space. He can give her that.

_ Okay. Good luck on your essay. _

He debates between sending a heart emoji or not for far too long before he decides on something more neutral - a simple smiling emoji. He figures that’s the end of the conversation for now, so he grabs his headphones, sticks them in the jack, and heads toward the train. 

A half hour into his ride home, his music gets softer with an incoming message. His heart lurches in his chest at the sight of MJ’s name on the screen. With a deep breath, he opens the message.

_ Thanks. Can we talk later? _

All the air in the subway car seems to leave the moment he reads it. He doesn’t know how to take it - maybe it’s good? It could be that she wants to talk things out, wants to apologize as much as he does for all of the stupid things they said to each other. 

Or. _ Or. _

He doesn’t want to think too much about the other possibility.

_ Yeah, I’d like that. What time? _

A minute.

_ My place, around 9? I'll leave the window unlocked for you. _

_ Okay. See you then. _

The rest of his evening passes with what he can only describe as agony. He's too distracted to get any homework done (he's lucky his study hall in the morning this year), so he goes out on patrol way earlier than usual in hopes of finding something to distract himself. But of course, as his Parker Luck would have it, the one night he's actively looking for some criminals to capture or subdue, the city seems to be on its best behavior. Funny how things like that work.

Time seems to move much too slowly, but when the clock strikes 9 PM, he finds himself at MJ's window. Unlike how he usually finds her, she doesn't have a book or her computer in front of her. She isn't working on homework or making AcaDec flashcards. In fact, she doesn't seem to be doing much of anything. He notices the wringing of her hands and the anxious tapping of her foot as he lightly raps at the window. She jumps a little at the sound, but quickly glances at her closed door and gestures for him to come in as she heads toward the door to lock it. He only somewhat awkwardly climbs in through the window, and pulls his mask off of his head once the blinds are shut.

"Hi."

"Hey," she says back, still standing across the room from him. 

He glances around the room, looking for some sort of icebreaker before his eyes land on a pile of books he knows are for her lit essay. He waves his hand in that direction. "Did you get a lot done on your essay?"

"Um," her eyes follow his movement, looking at the books as she replies, "not really. I was… distracted."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"It's fine."

There's a moment of silence, both of them avoiding looking at each other before MJ speaks up again.

"How was your day?"

He lets out a humorless laugh. "Oh, you know. I've had better."

"Yeah," she says, matching his laugh. "Me too."

He finally dares to look up. When his eyes meet hers, they're glossy, a bit guarded. He's seen this look before, when she'd lied to him on Charles Bridge in Prague. _ Why else would I be watching you? _she'd said. And he'd believed her, because it made sense, because she was observant (not obsessed with him), because why had he thought he'd be lucky enough to get the girl?

But then, days later, on another bridge in another country, he'd never been happier to hear the words '_ I lied' _as they left her lips.

His resolve crumbles at the memory, and before he can stop himself, he blurts out, "MJ, I'm so sorry," at the same time that she says, "I'm sorry."

He's sure the surprise on her face is reflected on his own, and he manages to let out a soft laugh. "This sucked, right?"

"Yeah."

"I hate fighting with you."

"Me too."

"Um," he starts, but he finds his words getting caught in his throat. He wants her to know why he'd been so upset, why he'd been so stubborn and frustrated, why he'd let his emotions take over rather than acting or thinking with any sort of rationality. When he manages to find his voice again, it's just above a whisper. "I was there when my Uncle Ben died, have I ever told you that?”

At the mention of Ben, he hears her suck in a sharp breath. It doesn’t come as a surprise to him - he rarely mentions Ben to anyone other than May, and even then the two of them tend to avoid the subject if they can. Losing Tony was hard, but the loss of Ben left a hole in his heart he’s not sure will ever be full again. 

He lets out a shaky breath, and shuts his eyes to keep the oncoming tears at bay. There’s a dip next to him in the cushion of the window seat, and then a hand grabbing his own. She threads her fingers through his, and waits. 

“It wasn’t too long after the Oscorp field trip, where I got bitten, and I was still learning how to use my powers. I hesitated, just for a moment, but...it was enough.” He brings his free hand up to wipe at his eyes, sniffling a little. “Seeing you in that kind of danger - I just froze. _ Again _.” A frustrated sigh, a shake of his head. “I think I was mad at myself more than I was really mad at you, mad that I wasn’t able to keep it together, and worried about you, about...losing you. I completely screwed it up by directing all of that at you, and I’m really sorry.” He can’t bring himself to look at her, so he lets the admission sit between them for a few moments, wiping surreptitiously at his eyes. 

“Peter,” she starts. Finally finding the courage to look at her, he meets her eyes and finds nothing but understanding reflecting back at him. “I get it. I wasn’t totally in the right, either. I’m sorry I made you worry,” she says with a squeeze to his hand. For a moment they just look at each other, taking in the mutual apologies, a quiet moment of peace after a truly awful day. Then, MJ clears her throat and looks away - out to her room, her bed, the pile of literature books for her essay - seemingly anywhere but Peter's face. "I'm, um, not really used to relying on other people? So sometimes I don't think about how my actions might affect someone I care about." She finally brings her gaze back to his, her eyes as serious as he's ever seen them when she reiterates, "someone I _ really _ care about."

In that moment, he feels like maybe she's trying to tell him something without actually saying it, and hopes beyond hope that it's what he's already been thinking since she took his hand.

_ I think I'm in love with you. _

He could just say it - put all the cards on the table and admit what he's been thinking about for the past four months - but the moment doesn't feel right. He doesn't want to tell MJ that he loves her after they've just had their first fight. He wants it to be special. And more than anything else, he wants to be _ sure _.

Instead, he glances down at her lips, and then back to her eyes, asking silently if it's okay. The uptick of the corner of her mouth is enough for him to lean forward and capture her lips with his own.

The kiss feels different than any of the other kisses they've shared before. It's slow, yet still somewhat desperate, unspoken emotion pouring out from both of them. He brings his hand up to her hair, lets it tangle through his fingers as he slides it down to caress her cheek. She breaks apart first, but he keeps his hand in place, their foreheads pressed together, noses bumping as they both take a second to breathe.

"I hope you know how much I care about you, too. And that you can always rely on me," he whispers in the space between them.

She pulls back, just enough so she can look in his eyes and says, "I do know."

He smiles for what feels like the first time since they started arguing. "Good." When she smiles back, he officially feels the weight from the past day lift from his shoulders, and finds that his chest feels a bit lighter than it had before. 

And as he looks at her with her glassy eyes and soft smile - the one he knows to be specifically for him - he can't help it; he kisses her again. Her smile (_ his _ smile) against his own is enough for him to know that they're going to be okay.

v.

It's been a bad day.

He's absolutely had worse (namely, fighting with MJ the month before), but right now, as he's lying on his back in a now-abandoned alley that smells distinctly like a horrible combination of cat pee and weed, it kind of feels like today was the perfect storm of every possible thing going wrong for him.

He'd spent the entire previous evening studying for his AP BC Calc exam, and then had woken up several times in the middle of the night after having stress dreams about it. The dreams were actually a welcome break from his usual nightmares, but all in all, still made for a horrible night’s sleep. The exam itself had been more stress than it was worth, but he could barely pay attention in his classes the rest of the day from being so tired. 

He'd managed to make it to decathlon after classes, but was out of it just enough that he'd missed several (rather easy) questions. Flash hadn't let him hear the end of it, though MJ had been quick to shut him down when she could.

On top of it all, that was the first time he'd actually seen her since school the previous day - their block schedules during the midweek didn't match up this year - and MJ had insisted that Peter study the night before on his own (probably for his own good - he wouldn't have gotten anything done around her anyway). 

They weren't able to spend tonight together either because MJ had a class project to work on, so he'd left AcaDec with a quick kiss from her and a promise of tomorrow. And now, as the cherry on top, he's just been bested by a couple of amateur muggers because he's so damn _ tired _. 

So yeah. Not the best day.

He realizes in that moment that the one thing he can think of that would make this no-good, horrible day marginally better is seeing MJ. It's late, so he suspects that her project meeting has long since finished, and without hesitation he gets up and starts swinging towards her apartment. As he's swinging, he sends her a text:

_ You home? _

_ Thought I might swing by ;) _

Her response back is almost immediate.

_ Really disappointed by your lack of creativity there. _

_ :'( _

_ But yeah, I’m home. _

_ See you soon. _

_ Already omw. Ten minutes. :) _

He’s there in seven. When he looks through the window, she’s sitting on her bed with her laptop open, staring intently at whatever is on her screen with a crease in her brow, her lips pursed. He gives her window a soft tap, which causes her to look up, the furrow on her face staying put as she gets up and opens the window for him. He crawls through quickly, pulling his mask off when he lands on her window seat as she turns to go back to her bed. 

"Did you know the Victorians had ‘safety coffins’? They were so concerned about premature burial because of all the medicinal experimentation going on that they built in these devices inside the coffins for people to pull that would ring a bell above ground in case they were accidentally buried alive,” she rambles.

He’s not offended by her lack of greeting in the slightest; this isn’t the first time he’s shown up at her place late at night. The movement and instant chatter from her just reassures him that she’s comfortable around him (and likely indicates that she’s had a cup of that Italian espresso she brought back from Venice; a quick glance at the empty mug on her desk and the smell of coffee lingering in the air confirms his suspicions). 

Usually he would let her go to her bed and talk about whatever weird, morbid fun fact she's discovered that day, but tonight he catches her hand and gently pulls her back around to face him. Wordlessly, he brings her closer until he’s able to wrap both arms around her waist. She stops talking at the movement, eventually hugging him back in turn as he buries his face into her collarbone and lets out a huge sigh. He feels his entire body relax, the weight of the day seeming to lift as he holds her.

He feels her turn her head towards his. “You okay?” she asks softly.

He nods into her neck. “Yeah, just a long day.” As he pulls away, her fingertips come up to graze his forehead, moving his hair out of his face. He looks up at her and gives her an exhausted smile. “Better now.”

The crease in her brow is back as she looks at his face, observing him as she is wont to do, so he lifts his hand and smoothes his gloved thumb between her eyebrows in an attempt to make the worry go away. “Really, MJ. I’m okay. Just really tired, that’s all.”

She nods, the crease now gone and replaced by a look of mirth in her eyes. “Yeah, you missing that question about quantum properties of atomic-sized conductors was a dead giveaway.” She smirks at him, and he groans as he drops his head to rest on her shoulder.

“Flash is never going to let me hear the end of it.”

“He will if he knows what’s good for him,” she says, her corresponding shrug jostling him from her shoulder. She turns her gaze back to him, and tilts her head. “So what kept you up this time? Spider-Man stuff, or…?”

“AP Calc Exam.”

“Ah.”

“I’ll take it over the usual stuff.”

"Yeah, I will, too.”

He gives her a smile and then, without meaning to, lets out a big yawn. When he opens his eyes, she’s moving away from him, toward her drawers. He lets out a small “no,” drawing out the word as he reaches for her in a way that can really only be described as pitiful. He pouts, watching her.

When she turns back around, she rolls her eyes, this time at him. “Dork, I’m getting you clothes to change into.” In the same moment, she tosses a pair of sweatpants and a large t-shirt his way. He catches them with ease. “Good to know your ‘Peter Tingle’ still works when you’re this tired.”

“‘Spidey Sense,’ MJ. It sounds so much cooler.” he protests as he presses the spider on his chest. 

“Which is exactly why it’s not as fitting for you,” she jabs. He pouts, causing her to let out a laugh as his suit pools at his feet. She doesn’t turn around like she used to; they’ve come a long way since Prague. He still tries to avoid her gaze, but when he glances briefly at her and notices her eyes trailing over him, he can’t help the smug grin that forms on his face.

“Like something you see?” he asks, a cocky lilt to his voice as he begins dressing.

She squints at him, unimpressed. Her eyes scan his entire body, then land at his suit on the floor. “Yeah, I mean that suit is probably worth a lot of money. Girl’s gotta pay for college somehow.”

He barks out a laugh, a disbelieving smile on his face as he playfully jests, “You know, I had suspected that you were only dating me for my access to Stark tech, but to have it confirmed so easily? _ Ouch _,” he says, a hand on his chest.

“You’ll survive,” she says, crawling into her bed.

_ Tsk _. “I dunno, Em. You know what they say about a superhero with a broken heart.” He pulls the shirt over his face and walks toward her bed, stopping just at the edge. She looks up at him (a rare occurrence, really) and squints, lips pursed.

“I don’t actually. Enlighten me.”

His mouth opens and closes as though he’s going to say something, but no words come out. It feels like she always manages to do this - throw him off his game (if he has any game to speak of in the first place), make him stutter, catch him completely off guard. He’s gotten better at keeping up with her in the months they’ve been together, but there are still these moments when she breaks their usual _ yes-and _banter just to see how he’ll react. Even after becoming friends and then dating for six months, even after getting to know her personal brand of weird and morbid humor, she still gets him flustered with a simple look.

“Uh...it’s really bad?”

Her face breaks out into a fond grin. “Smooth.” And then, an exaggerated sigh. “We really had something going there, Pete.”

“I can’t help it! You make me all,” he gestures emphatically, “flustered!”

“Still?” she says through a laugh.

“Yeah, _ still _ .” A beat. “Always, really. Forever, probably,” he admits, pointedly avoiding her gaze as he picks some lint off of her comforter. After a moment of nothing from her, he looks up. She meets his eyes for a moment before swallowing, averting her gaze from his. And then, it’s back with a soft smile - _ his _smile. It’s quiet, both of them looking at each other, the weight of the words he’d just said settling over them. He looks down shyly, breaking the tension as he turns around to go pick up and fold his suit. 

When he finishes, MJ is settled in her bed, a pile of pillows propping her up into a half-seated position. She’s closed her laptop and placed it on her desk, trading it in for one of her latest books in her lap. 

As he walks over, he asks, “Which one is that?”

“_Lady Audley’s Secret _ by Mary Elizabeth Braddon."

"So, what's her secret?"

"A husband she killed after faking her own death and remarrying. It’s basically the Victorian version of _ Gone Girl, _with a lot less female empowerment because of the time period. Still a fun read, though.”

He gives her an 'mmm' of acknowledgement as he makes his way over to the bed. She shuffles over toward the wall to make room for him, opens her book to where she left off as he crawls under the covers and lays down on his side. As he settles his head on her stomach, he brings an arm around her middle, MJ placing her own around his shoulder, hand carding through his hair as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. 

If anyone had told him six months ago that they would get to a place where they were this comfortable with each other, he probably would have sputtered something awkwardly about how they had just started dating, and not to get too ahead of them. But sure enough, as they settled into their relationship things like casual touches and physical affection became something akin to second nature. They had fallen into cuddling habits early on - namely, the plane home from Europe, where he’d fallen asleep with his head on her shoulder. Even though they’ve come a long way since then, Peter ranks it in his top three favorite things to do with MJ.

As she runs her fingers through his hair, his eyes get heavier and heavier. He lets them close and listens to the sounds outside her window, the turning of the pages in her book, and feels her breathing beneath him. All of the bad from the day feels insignificant now. He never knew someone could make him feel so safe and at ease. As his mind wanders, he finds himself wondering if that’s what love really is - someone who makes you feel safe, who makes the bad go away by just existing, or at least makes it all a little less unbearable. 

He turns, buries his face deeper into MJ’s side, tries to rid those thoughts from his mind - he’s too tired to linger on them for now. "Mm, I can't stay long."

"I know."

"Just like, an hour or two."

"Mhm."

He opens his eyes and shifts just slightly so he can angle his neck up towards her. He knows he's not going to last much longer, but he offers her the tiniest of smiles. "Read to me?"

It’s not the first time he’s asked. The first time, he’d stuttered through the question, muttering something about how he liked the sound of her voice, how it calmed him, and MJ had let him ramble before she opened her book and started reading, her lips tugged into a smile. He’d fallen asleep then, too; somehow whenever she reads to him like this he manages to sleep all the way through the night (a rare occurrence most days).

MJ clears her throat, breaking his train of thought. “‘_ What had been his love for his first wife but a poor, pitiful, smoldering spark, too dull to be extinguished, too feeble to burn? But _ this _ was love— this fever, this longing, this restless, uncertain, miserable hesitation…’” _

_ Of course _. The mention of love manages, again, to cloud his already foggy mind. The book’s description sounded nothing like how MJ made him feel; it was too aggressive, too distraught, too...much. Whereas the narrator described love as restless, Peter felt only content, and nothing about their relationship made him feel miserable at all. 

His only uncertainty about them _ was _ love. How was he supposed to know for sure, when descriptions like that were so intense and jarring?

MJ continued on, her nails scratching lightly at his scalp, lulling him even closer to unconsciousness. “_ ...all these signs gave token of the truth, and told only too plainly that, at the sober age of fifty-five, Sir Michael Audley had fallen ill of the terrible fever called love. _’” 

As he fell asleep, Peter knew he was sure of one thing: if what he felt was love, there was nothing terrible about it.

+i.

When Peter finally knows he’s in love with MJ, it isn’t because she made an effort to spend time with his aunt, nor is it when he finds a picture of himself as her phone background. It isn’t after she’s called him because she woke up from a nightmare, or after they’ve gotten through their first real fight as a couple, and it isn’t even when she reads him to sleep after an absolutely horrible day. It isn’t anything extraordinary.

It’s a Wednesday.

They’re at Peter’s, sitting in his living room, him working on homework and her drawing something in her sketchbook. Neither of them have spoken for the past half hour or so, but there’s a John Mulaney special on in the background providing the soundtrack to their calculus-and-sketch-filled evening. (They turn his comedy specials on a lot, actually; MJ claims that John Mulaney is constantly in crisis, and therefore is the perfect subject for her sketches.)

_ “And then, he ordered one black coffee for himself. And kept driving,” _John says on screen. 

There’s no reason that she should laugh - she’s heard the joke plenty of times before - but for some reason, today, she lets out a loud chuckle, followed by a soft snort. Peter’s head snaps up at the sound, and even though she isn’t looking at the TV, her nose still buried in her sketchbook, there’s a smile on her face and the corners of her eyes are crinkling at the edges.

And that’s it.

He wouldn’t say that it hits him like a freight train - he knows _ exactly _ what that feels like - and this is not that.

It feels more like the dimmer on a light being turned all the way up, or waking up on a Saturday morning and remembering it’s the weekend. 

But more than anything, he feels sure. There’s no question this time, no _ ‘I think’ _ or _ ‘probably’ _ or ‘ _ I don’t know’ _about it.

He’s in love with her.

It brings a smile to his face, one he’s sure looks ridiculous without the context of the goings-on in his head, which is why he’s unsurprised when MJ glances up at him and her brow furrows. 

“What?” she asks, the corner of her mouth upticking into an inquisitive smile.

“Nothing,” he says, his corresponding smile tight. “You just look really pretty today.”

A raised eyebrow, a glance down at her ratty sweatpants that are fringing at the edges and the too-big hoodie that she stole from his closet. She chuckles. “Okay, weirdo," she says, her voice dripping with fondness.

She turns back to her sketching, lets her hair fall in front of her face, but he notices her eyes cutting toward him as he continues to stare at her, a slow smile spreading across her lips as she realizes that he's not looking away. He knows her well enough to tell that she’s hiding a blush; his stomach turns somersaults at the thought of how he affects her sometimes.

He decides then that he won’t tell her, not today. They’ve only been dating a little over seven months; everything is still so new and exciting, and what they have is going well.

But he will tell her, someday. Soon, hopefully.

He’s already formulating a plan.

**Author's Note:**

> phew, it is done! i've been working on this fic for about two months now, and it's the longest (completed) fic i've ever written. honestly a little proud of myself for actually finishing it. 
> 
> i wanted to give a little shoutout to [Bugsquads](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bugsquads/pseuds/Bugsquads), [doofusface](https://archiveofourown.org/users/doofusface/pseuds/doofusface), and [Quiet_Constellation](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quiet_Constellation/pseuds/Quiet_Constellation) for encouraging me and inspiring me to start writing again. if you haven't read any of their stuff, i promise you won't regret it.
> 
> another thanks to [TheHeroicHydrangea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHeroicHydrangea/pseuds/TheHeroicHydrangea) for betaing for me!
> 
> i have an idea for a possible 5+1 follow-up to this one, but it's currently not in the early conception stages and i'm not sure when i'll get around to it. i'm hoping to turn my attention to a few other wips i have and come back to the 5+1 format eventually. so stay tuned! i'm not totally sure what's in store for me next, but i have a feeling i'll be fixed on these two for a while, haha.
> 
> feel free to come yell at me about them on [twitter](https://twitter.com/thebirdisanerd).
> 
> thanks so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed, and as always, comments and kudos are appreciated!


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